Oops
by SailorYue
Summary: Crowley made a mistake. But is it a bad one? He may have stolen a baby. Or did he?


"What do you mean 'oops'?" A very drunk and not very happy angel accused his friend laying on the couch in the backroom of his bookshop.

"S'not like I meant to do it." The very drunk demon said from his haphazard position, half lying on, half hanging off the couch.

The pair had been drinking rather solidly for several hours, reminiscing about things over the past year. Now that they were essentially free from dealing with their respective head offices looming over their shoulders, they had thoroughly enjoyed being able to be themselves. Do good deeds or do naughty ones without judgment. And, to be able to be together as friends, openly. Not just because of an old agreement from centuries ago.

"Do WHAT, Crowley." Aziraphale gave a calculating stare at his dear friend, although in just a moment his question was answered by the sound of a crying baby coming from the other side of the room. He looked from it to his drunken companion and back. "Oh. Oh dear!"

Near the door was a small wicker basket, and inside was a rather tiny upset infant.

"Crowley, what did you do?" The angel peered into the basket, unsure of what his next course of action should be.

"Obviously stole a baby." The demon groused, sitting up from his position. Suddenly he didn't feel like he was quite drunk enough, but hten again had he been sober he wouldn't have miracle a baby from God knows where all because he decided to be sappy thinking of another child he once helped raise.

It was all because of a question that Crowley thought of after the third or fourth bottle of wine from Aziraphale's stores.

"You know, its almost their birthday." He had stated, discarding his sunglasses onto the nearby table.

"Whose?" The angel responded, rather sleepily.

"The antichrist." The demon ran a hand through his hair. "Adam and..."

"Warlock." Aziraphale finished. So long ago had the two of them tried to be godfathers to a boy they had THOUGHT was the antichrist. It ended up being the wrong boy, the real one growing up completely human, so to speak, in a small village.

"Yeah. Funny how that turned out, innit." Crowley asked, refilling his glass.

"Suppose so. He turned out alright though, in spite of our interference."

Crowley couldn't help but snort. "Angel, we practically raised him. His parents were doing who knows what being," he waived his hand in a dismissive way, "Diplomats or whatever. We were the ones there for his nightmares and for his illnesses. All of those. I tucked him into bed more than his own mother for sssss-somebody's sake."

Aziraphale nodded. "I was there when he fell out of the tree in the garden. It was all I could do to not just heal his leg with a miracle!"

Crowley snorted. "That would have been cheating though, angel."

The demon thought one time the boy had a particular nightmare. Under the circumstances he should have allowed the nightmare fuel his supposed dark powers and energy, but he actually had a real understanding about nightmares. Often when he had them they were of what happened during his fall, so he actually talked the boy through it. It couldn't be helped. He really was a bad demon in that time, not that he really gave a damn.

"Wonder what he's up to lately? He certainly had to have had a rather interesting time, with the forces of heaven and hell trying to tell the wrong boy to start Armageddon before realizing it was Adam that they needed." Aziraphale placed his empty glass down. He was getting close to the point where he was wanting to sober up.

"Dunno. But their birthdays are coming up. Should get them something, both Adam and Warlock." Crowley missed the time raising the not-antichrist. He loved children in all honesty. Hell he did risk a whole lot rescuing a group of children from the Great Flood. He'd do it again.

Then a thought had crossed his mind. And in a moment he wished he COULD have a child for him and Aziraphale to care for again. Which led to

"Oops."

"Just send it back to where you took the child from, Crowley!" Aziraphale picked the fussing baby out of the basket to try to sooth it, having already sobered up moments before. He was surprised at how red the child's hair was. He frowned.

"Would if I knew where it even came from, angel." The demon rubbed at his temples. Maybe he was too drunk at this point. Who miracles a baby from their parents? Well, aside from a demon trying to protect future sinners from drowning!

"Crowley, dear, sober up. Right now."

The demon looked blearily at the angel, surprised at his stern tone. Shrugging, he did as he was told, forcing the alcohol out of his system and back into the bottles strewn about the shop.

"Dear... I don't think you actually STOLE a child."

Crowley wondered if he didn't get all the alcohol out. "If I didn't steal it, where the he...where did it come from?"

"I'm... not to sure." The angel walked to the couch. "But something about her. I would swear she has your hair."

Crowley had a particular shade of red hair, the way it caught the sunlight. Probably reminiscent of him being an angel, but most humans could only dream of getting it that shade from a bottle. The demon frowned in confusion at his friend's statement. How would a baby have his hair? He looked at the child in the angel's arms. Sure enough it was a very deep red, and actually quite curly. How in...

"And please tell me my dear if I am not the only one that sees this; look at her eyes."

Aziraphale held the baby out, so that the demon could look into pale blue eyes. Very familiar blue eyes. ANGELIC blue eyes, with dark brown flecks around the irises that had a very vague animalistic trait, but only if you looked hard enough.

"Oh...I..." Crowley floundered for something to say other than random noises.

"Crowley... did...you create a child?"

The demon took the baby and looked closely at her. Noting that she had little bits of him and little bits of Aziraphale. How was he able to even do this. He stole a quick look at the ceiling wondering what kind of game She was playing at, but then looked back at the baby as she gripped his finger. Something warm rushed in his heart.

"I think... perhaps I did, Angel. I think she's ours."

"How the heaven did you manage to do that?" Aziraphale sat on the table in front of the couch, staring at the child that was a perfect mix of the two of them.

Crowley shrugged, unsure of anything else to say other than, "Oops."


End file.
